


(feel) you give me love again

by interstellarbeams



Series: coming up for air [2]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Idk what i'm doing, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, just read for FEELS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 06:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14563533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarbeams/pseuds/interstellarbeams
Summary: She let her fingers rake through his hair, the familiarity of the caress calming her, along with the memory of that early morning in 1941. Oh god, how she had longed to go back to that night ever since but this wasn't it, this was another night -- another moment -- and she didn't want to let it go, to waste time wonderingwhat if.





	(feel) you give me love again

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Nikki ([CSM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSM/pseuds/CSM)) for looking this over for me! As well as Logan ([angellwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings)) for all the encouragement and the girls in the group chat for all their support! 
> 
> This is the sequel to _it's hard, coming up for air_. I hope it lives up to y'all's expectations!  <3
> 
> Title is from _Of The Night_ by Bastille, originally _The Rhythm of the Night_ by Corona.

Their lips met for the second time that night with his back pressed against the wall of her living room, her framed Stanford diploma, next to his head, obscured by the dimness of her apartment. His fingers grip her waist with a startling intensity and she clings to him with a fierceness that belied her emotions and surprised them both. 

Her heart pounded so hard -- with excitement, adrenaline and a tiny bit of anxiousness -- that she was afraid it might burst. And with Wyatt's shaky exhale as they paused for a breath, their foreheads pressed together, told her that he was feeling the same mixture of emotions. 

She let her fingers rake through his hair, the familiarity of the caress calming her, along with the memory of that early morning in 1941. Oh god, how she had longed to go back to that night ever since but this wasn't it, this was another night -- another moment -- and she didn't want to let it go, to waste time wondering _what if_. She was going to choose her own fate.  
_History was just a matter of choices_ , right?

Their bodies pressed together from shoulders to hips and Lucy dragged her red-painted nails down the back of his suede jacket as she pulled away, struggling to breathe against the overwhelming tide of desire that was washing over her.

She dragged him away from the wall with fistfuls of his jacket and lead him towards the couch. She pushed him down onto the cushions and he landed with a surprised grunt before she straddled him. He trailed kisses down the side of her neck and she struggled to focus as the scrape of his scruff against her sensitive skin sent jolts of pleasure through her. 

She pressed her hips down into his as the sensations overwhelmed her. Wyatt pressed his fingers into her hips -- wanting to stop the torture and encourage it all at once -- at the unexpected pleasure that the friction of their bodies caused. 

His head dropped back against the couch, an audible groan escaping him but she won't let him go, she dragged his head back up to hers, her lips insistent on his. The slide of his tongue against hers is electric and she craves more of him, like the last shot of vodka -- you’ve become accustomed to the taste but it's affect is still intoxicating.

His hands are like a brand, burning through her clothes and just the slightest touch sends sparks through her. Suddenly, she can't stand to have anything between her skin and his. She attempts to unbutton her blouse but the button’s glossy surfaces are frustrating and slippery against her fingers. Then his hands are there, effortlessly removing them until she is free. 

The smooth slide of his suede jacket and the juxtaposition of the rough zipper against her skin is exhilarating but she doesn't want leather and metal, she just wants him. Every inch of him pressed against every inch of her, the only thing between them the memory of their one night together, so many years ago. 

She whines in frustration when he pushes her anxious hands away from the hem of his shirt but soon she's sighing with pleasure, her hands in his hair, as his lips cross her clavicle leaving soothing, feather light kisses against her overheated skin.

She shifts to sit next to him on the couch, instantly feeling the loss of his warmth in the chill of the air conditioned room. He shrugs out of his jacket hastily and then she's the one being pursued by him. His lips are intense and unyielding on hers but she welcomes it. She wants to _feel_ , to forget all the nights that she slept alone in the bunker, her tears her only company, as she imagined how he was sharing his warmth with his wife while her bed felt colder than it ever had before. His loss tangible in the emptiness. 

The weight of his body on hers is so familiar that she wants to cry, the pressure of his lips anchor her to the present -- to the here and now -- not the past, not _their_ past. 

This time it's _different_.

Before his hands had mapped out her body -- every curve, every bend, every angle -- and filed it away but now he had the knowledge and could take what she was giving without reservations because they knew each other. Their highs and lows, triumphs and mistakes had all been put on display and they hadn't turned away from each other. She could give every piece of herself to him and know, without a doubt, that he would handle it with care because she trusted him. 

She sucked in a breath, at the shock of the cool metal of his belt buckle, against her skin but couldn't bring herself to care once the weight of his hips settled into hers. It was all at once familiar and tantalizing. 

Wyatt's lips traveled lower, as she pulled away on a gasp, lungs burning for more oxygen like her body was on fire for him. His kisses seared through her and she moaned as his hand cupped her, his thumb stroking through the fabric of her bra. 

“Wyatt,” she murmured, as his deft fingers swiftly unclasped her bra and tossed it to the side. 

He pulled back to look at her and Lucy opened her eyes to look into his face. The desire burning there was almost tangible and she ached for him to touch her again, do _anything_ but he didn't, so she did. 

Reaching for his shirt, she helped him pull it off swiftly and then threw her arms around him pressing her breasts to his chest and fusing her mouth with his. She sighed into his mouth at the wonderful feeling of his chest pressed to hers and the warmth that it ignited deep inside. 

If she had been in her usual logical mood she might have thought that it was funny that they still had their pants and shoes on and were sprawled out on her couch like two randy teenagers but she didn't care because they were together _finally_ and nothing was going to distract her from this moment.

“I think we should move this to the bed,” Wyatt finally breathed out, his normally bright blue eyes, dark with desire.

Lucy brushed his hair back from his forehead, a soft smile gracing her lips before she nodded her head in agreement.

Lucy squealed, when she was suddenly being hoisted up without any other warning and Wyatt chuckled at her look of surprise. She narrowed her eyes at him playfully before retaliating by nipping his earlobe with her teeth and causing him to jump as a shock of desire coursed through him.

“Lucy,” he warned, as she smirked, his reaction clearly obvious as she wrapped her legs around his waist. His warm, calloused hand stroked up her back, while the other supported her as he turned to walk toward the bedroom.

The light of the bedroom lamp suffused the room in a soft glow as Wyatt set Lucy on the edge of the bed, his hands immediately going to the button of her jeans.

“A little antsy, aren't you?” Lucy grinned, and by the look on his face she knew she wasn't wrong.

“I’m pretty sure you feel the same way,” Wyatt replied, as he unzipped her pants, slowly and deliberately.

Lucy gasped, as he kissed her slow and open-mouthed, his hands delving into the back of her jeans to cup her ass and pull her closer against him.

Lucy kicked off her shoes, not even caring how awkward it must look and dragged her knees up creating a delicious friction between her jeans and him, just where she needed it most.

“Please,” she found herself whimpering, as he pulled away, to drag her jeans the rest of the way off.

Shucking his jeans and shoes, Wyatt let them fall to the floor before he covered her with his body. 

Lucy immediately wrapped her arms around him, whimpering into his mouth at his hardness pressed against her, nothing but a small scrap of lace and cotton between them now.

Their lips grazed tentatively, barely touching, as their breaths mingled, harsh with want and unfulfilled desire. Wyatt stared down into her eyes and Lucy couldn't look away. Their eyes locked and held, all of the past hurt and pain washed away by the tide of apology and love in his eyes.

“ _Well_ , are you going to take what's being offered, Master Sergeant, or are you going to stare at me all day?” she teased, the lighthearted moment easing some of the anxiety that she had harbored earlier that night. Now that she knew he still wanted her, she could have floated to the ceiling with happiness like one of the champagne bubbles in her fluted glass.

“Yes ma’am,” he murmured, pushing her up the bed and dragging her panties down with one hook of his fingers.

“You think you're so smooth,” Lucy couldn't help but giggle, pressing her cheek into the pillow and smiling over at him.

“I don't know, I thought that was pretty good,” Wyatt shrugged, as he joined her on the bed.

She laughed up at him, resting her hands on his upper arms, before sliding one up to rest in the back of his neck.

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his look of tenderness and love so touching that she wanted to cry.

He quickly pecked her lips as she wrapped her legs around him, and then there was nothing more to separate them.

She gasped at the sudden fullness of him inside her. He pulled back suddenly, a concerned frown wrinkling his brow.

“Lucy,” he whispered, the silence around them like the quiet of a church.

“I’m okay,” she assured him, tears forming in her eyes at his intense worry for her, in that moment. She pushed his sweat damp hair back from his forehead before encouraging him to move with a shifting of her hips.

She gasped again but this time it was swallowed up by his lips on hers, his tongue sending a jolt of want through to her core.

“Wyatt,” she panted against his neck as he increased the pace, her hands suddenly pinned by his larger ones and her body by his as the pleasure slowly built between their two bodies. 

“Oh god,” Lucy moaned, her fingers tensed again his as her body jerked with the strength of her orgasm. Wyatt kissed the dampness pooling at the base of her throat and then he collapsed on her with a groan of fulfillment.

 

\-----

 

They lay together afterwards, her head on his shoulder, her unruly curls catching on the scruff on his jaw. She intertwined her fingers with his, as she shifted up on her elbow to look him in the eyes.

“So… what do you think we should do tomorrow night?” Lucy smiled at him, biting her lip invitingly and distracting him temporarily.

“Well, I don’t know,” Wyatt curved his arm around her waist and absentmindedly traced his fingers across her ribcage, his fingers close to but not quite brushing the underside of her breast, “Do you know any other bars?”

Lucy huffed, narrowing her eyes at him playfully, “Hah, you’re pretty confident there, Mr. Logan. Who said anything about you getting seconds?” 

“Oh, well I do know this one woman who gets intoxicated after one glass of champagne.” Wyatt smirked as Lucy glared at him in offense. 

“I was not intoxicated! You're the one who practically mauled me in the hallway. " _Hell_ ,” Wyatt smiled, surprised at her language, “I could practically taste the whiskey on your breath.”

Her head was hitting the pillow before she even realized what he was doing, as he pressed her down into the mattress with his lips firm on hers. At the touch of his tongue she was lost and she didn't even recall how peeved she had been at him, just a second earlier.

She moaned, trying to draw him closer, but he pulled away. Staring down at her with adoring eyes, he smirked.

“Can you still taste it, Professor?” 

“Shut up,” Lucy growled, yanking him back down to her and trapping him in her embrace.

 _Forget the alcohol_ , she was about to get drunk on him again and _again and again_.


End file.
